Spirits of the Forest
by Daeowan
Summary: After the fall of the terrible Archimonde the continent of Kalimdor rebuilds after the final epic battle where the Night Elves saved their homeland. But when a rogue Dread Lord seeks to redeem himself to his masters, shadow envelopes the land once more.


Chapter One - Hunter Hunted  
  
Ellah Featherfall picked her way carefully through the underbrush of the Archwood Forest, her bow slung around her lithe form, fitting snuggly and staying out of her way. The arrows in her quiver made no sound as she moved, her steps skillfully planted and her balance perfect. Her eyes were downcast, narrowed intently on the tracks she had spent the better part of the morning following. Her leaf-green cloak draped protectively over her, shielding her from the rays of sunlight that beamed through the canopy of the forest and threatened to reveal her position.   
  
These tracks were peculiar indeed. There seemed to be no rythem to the beast who made them. Perhaps it was wounded or carrying a burden, she thought. Her skilled eyes could discern few details, which told her right away that whatever made them was not from the region. They seemed to be clawed harshly into the undergrowth of the forest, moving with great speed for quite a distance. The creature was too light to leave such fierce marks in it's wake, a fact that disturbed her greatly.   
  
She looked up to boughs of a familiar tree and realized just how far she was from her camp. It would take hours to return on foot, and she already had engagements to keep elsewhere, but she could not ignore these tracks. She had come accross them on her way to an encampment to the west where Shyla Moonrunner awaited her report. All rangers in the region were required to make weekly reports since the defeat of Archimonde months before. The land was scarred deeply, defenseless and weak, and it was up to the Night Elves to ensure it's safety while it nursed it's wounds. Ellah had taken part in the great battle at the foot of the great tree and saw many terrible sights. These tracks reminded her of those horrifying moments. She could not ignore them.   
  
A sound roused her sensitive ears. Movement a hundred yards or so ahead of her. She had known the tracks were fresh, but not this fresh. Crouching low and unslinging her bow, the Night Elf drew an arrow from her quiver and notched it, watching the brush before her carefully. The creature continued to move quietly, but not quietly enough for her ears. She set her hand on the ground before her to lean forward for a clearer view, but felt something wet on her fingertips.   
  
"Blood..." she breathed, rolling her thumb and forefinger. It was wounded afterall. She brought smelled it cautiously and scoffed at the odor. A Satyr's blood, she thought scornfully. How she loathed the beasts. Satyrs were no friend of the Night Elves, and were in fact mortal enemies for thousands of years. They were Night Elves once, long ago, but abandoned their kin for the sake of darkness and impurity. She notched her arrow tightly once more, and made ready to spring.   
  
Suddenly, the beast leapt from it's hiding place and ran full stride, looking over it's shoulder with such fear that she was given pause. Satyrs feared no Night Elf, no matter their wounds, and alway fought to the death. Why, then, did this one run with such distress? It was terrified, and by all signs, it had not noticed her. She was given her answer quickly.   
  
A creature leapt up and clung itself to the beast's back, raking and growling hungrily with it's gangly claws. Another leapt for the Satyr's side, latching it's viciously crude teeth over the darkened one's flesh. The Satyr howled and spun, trying to rid itself of it's attackers, but another soon joined the frenzy, then another and another. In a moment the Satyr was overhwhelmed and brought down, howling and screaming in an agony Ellah had not seen since that terrible day. She watched in pure horror as the creatures tore the beast apart, feasting with a lust for flesh no creature of nature could ever possess. Their rotted flesh was raked away in the frenzy as each one tried to feed, ripping and clawing with unholy power. Ellah recognized these creatures, and she knew fear then.   
  
These were ghouls, not unlike those at Archimonde's command, which had stormed the great tree and tried to spoil it's power of purity and wisdom. Small in size, due to their tendancy to walk on all fours, but vicious up close. Ellah had heard that many were human once, a farmer or a great warrior brought down an accursed plague or revived by evil means. Their rotted and tattered bodies craved nothing but the flesh of the living, to tear the meat from bone and devour it without pause. How could this be? she thought to herself. Archimonde was destroyed! His armies of undead no more! How could this be?   
  
She stepped back, trembling, clutching her bow and arrow so tightly she feared her hands may bleed and attract the foul creatures. She ducked behind a clump of dense foliage, her back to a large stone, and went completely still.   
  
Silence then. No sound resounded through the trees. All was quiet, which was even more unnerving to her. Whatever force could bring such control to such a frenzy was a terrifying one to her. She clutched her bow to her breast and breathed a prayer to her goddess.   
  
"May Elune protect this forest, these trees, and goddess willing, myself..."   
  
She closed her eyes and let the cowl of her cloak cover her eyes. She desired no sight then, desired no feeling while surrounded by such unrelenting evil. She made herself as small as possible, tucking her legs in and hugging her bow tightly. She tried not to shake, but her fear was too great. These monsters consumed life and nothing more, they saught only to extinguish all that was good in the land and bring nothing but blight in their wake. She covered her mouth with her hand, forgetting the Satyr's blood, and tried to calm herself.   
  
A claw came into sight then, moving slowly and cautiously into view through a tangle of tall grass. A ghoul slipped out, looking opposite of her direction, moving with great intent to the north. The north, she wondered curiously. What was north of here?   
  
The encampment! she realized. Her eyes widened at the thought. More ghouls came into her view, none looking in her direction, and moved quietly and steadily. So many! she thought, and so quiet! Her sisters would be encircled and without aid and would surely fall to such a scourge. If she did not warn them then...   
  
Warn them, she thought with new confidence. Warn them.   
  
Ellah was struck then with purpose. Her fears began to subside as she envisioned her homeland under flame if these creatures went unnoticed for too long. It was a sight she never desired to see again, one she would give her life to avoid. Her fingers wrapped tightly around her bow, her head lowered, and her heart sank. A tear rolled down her smooth, blue tinted cheek as she decided on her course, as she chose her fate.   
  
The first ghoul never knew what hit it.

* * *

Trees standing with an undying vigil swayed softly with the morning breeze. Small black-marked birch displayed their green leaves proudly, holding them up to the sky to show the sun their personal glory. Great pines with trunks as thick as twenty men stood with commanding grace, their large needled branches swung over their young protectively for untold centuries. And there, standing over them all, were the oaks, the gentle giants of the Archwood Forest. With branches stretching out and clouding the sky, roots that dug so deep and so tightly that other trees relied on them for support, the oaks were considered by the Elves as the true guardians of the forest. Their spirits, so kind and so wise, had guided the Elves since the beginning of their time. It was here, among these silent wardens, that Grumbleoak stood.   
  
Grumbleoak spoke no words in any tongue, nor did he desire to speak with anyone but his trees. He was content with his existence, watching over his children, seeing to their health and helping them live. He smiled when a sapling's roots took firm hold of the soil, and looked woefully on as nature took away the weak and the old. Truly he was a guardian of his kind, for he knew nothing else. No Elf and no man had ever lain eyes upon him. He was alone, except for his kin.   
  
The great ancient had not noticed the battle for the great tree. His roots had remained deep for many years, uncountable by human measuring, and he held no desire to change that. The ages floated past him, and he watched them as they flew by, but never did the desire to leave his children cross his old mind.   
  
For all his long years, Grumbleoak knew little of anything outside of his circle of trees. Whispers from other spirits brought news steadily, but Grumbleoak was rarely listening. He often basked in the warm sunlight, or gazed into the open moonlight, sometimes wondering, though not often, what else there was in the world he shared with nature's creatures.   
  
For now he remained content, his boughs brought up high to catch the morning rays, and waited for another age to pass.

* * *

The forest seemed to explode into action all at once. Cries of hunger and wails of glee could be heard for miles, and from it all, ran the blue-skinned ranger known as Ellah Featherfall.   
  
With undying grace and precision she placed her steps unerringly, launching her delicate body over rocks, small hills and fallen trees. She had an arrow notched, her bow pointed to the ground, and was running with such grace and speed it seemed as if the forest was aiding her in her plight. Only meters behind her, her pursuers were a stark contrast, mailicously tearing the greenery from beneath the clawed hands and feet, crawling over on another to get closer to her and slash at her waving green cloak. She steeled herself with every near miss, trying not to think about what would happen if they reached her, and tried to let her conviction speak for her.   
  
While she ran, she brought up one hand and shouted a word of magic. "Betha leen!" she called, and from the air before her materialized a great horned owl born of forest magic, her friend and companion, Sorrin. Quickly she called out her instructions, telling him to fly with great speed to the encampment to warn her sisters of the coming plague. She had to reassure him of her safety, telling him not to worry, and that she would follow as quickly as possible. With some reluctance, Sorrin obeyed, and pitched his beak skyward, piercing the canopy, and flew on home.   
  
Ellah sighed sadly. She did not know if she could keep her promise.   
  
One of the beasts came out from behind a tree in front of her, chuckling and snarling as he rushed her madly. She lifted her bow and released her arrow, watching the blue streak behind it carry it's magic to her target, striking it's chest dead center and exploding with lunar magic, sending the wretched thing flying backward. She leapt over it's now completely lifeless body, and reached back to her quiver to reload.   
  
Movement in the canopy caught her elven eyes by surprise. She peered up in time to see the silhouette of something soaring overhead, but could not discern what it was quickly enough before it vanished again. She could make out bat-like wings and long gangly legs trailing behind, nothing she had ever seen in these woods except...   
  
"For the love of Elune!" the thought suddenly. "Those flying menaces are here as well! Those... gargoyles!"   
  
She slipped two arrows from her quiver and notched them perfectly as she leaped over another small hill. She had grown tired of the ghouls slashing and chuckling at her from behind, and decided to make a point of the issue. In midstride, she planted her right foot firmly into a patch of moss and twisted her lithe form, bending down and whipping her bow around, her glowing arrows coming to bear on her pursuers. She let fly and kept on twisting, already knowing the arrows would part ways and strike two seperate targets without fail, and even managed a cold smile as she heard them explode into the heads of two of the ghouls, knocking them backward and ending their chase once and for all. There were still so many of them though...   
  
In the distance, her sharp vision caught site of a clearing directly in her path. Not wanting any part of that, she attempted to alter her course, pitching her stride to the left. Ghouls seemed to pop out from the soil though, and forced her to continue her dangerous path to the clearing. She tried to bank right, but again, Ghouls stopped her in her path. She let fly several arrows at great speed, taking down many of the horrid things before she realized what was happening. She was being routed to the clearing, herded in like a sheep.   
  
It was a trap.   
  
By now, all fear had left her, her mission now clear. She pumped her shapely legs and loosed as many arrows as she could before reaching the clearing. As her small foot touched with the short green grass she tossed her bow aside and drew two curved elven blades from her belt, ready to meet the fouls one head on. What she saw next stopped her in her tracks.   
  
A hulking mass of meat and bone came rumbling from the darkened forst neyond, it's horrifying form sewn together from many parts of many creatures. He laughed in a deep and gutteral voice as it lumbered forward, carrying a huge cleaver in one grotesque hand and a hook in the other. It drooped it's head low, laughing and grinning toothlessly, tauntint her as it somehow moved it's impossibly large body. Behind her the ghouls stopped and began to encricle her, dozens of them creeped from the forest around her, chuckling and chattering mockingly at her. She clutched her blades tightly and closed her eyes, lifting her gaze skyward and whispering a quiet prayer to her goddess. This was no time for fear, she knew.   
  
This was a time for sacrifice.

* * *

Grumbleoak's attention was stolen from his absent thoughts as sounds in the distance roused his suspicion. The monsterous ancient turned head in the direction of the sounds, leaning himself forward, and focusing hard on their possible meaning.   
  
These were no sounds of the forest, he knew, nothing like he had ever heard before. He strained to listen, his large golden pupiless eyes narrowing as he tried to associate the sounds with something he was familiar with. A sort of chattering was among the many sounds, like laughter, only not as comforting as true laughter. There was a certain mailicousness to that sound, something that Grumbleoak did not like in the least. There also came a ringing sound, a sharp metallic clang that the old ancient had not heard in some time. This was the meeting of steel, he remembered, there were combatants near by.   
  
The final sound he discerned disturbed him greatly, cries of a creature he had forgotten many millenia before. It was the voice of a night elf, a creature who had earned his respect a very long time ago, a creature who shared his love for all things green and still. He was distressed, however, as it sounded as though this elf was in peril. His desire the remain rooted among his trees was soon cast aside. He had to help the elf in any way he could, he had to protect her life as he had protected all life in this forest.   
  
The ancient's arm, massive boughs of branch and leaf, swung down to the forest floor, their mass alone sending a shudder through the land beneath. His roots uncoiled and slithered from the soil, allowing his feet, two gigantic trunks, to rise from the earth and step onto the foliage. He leaned his weight forward onto his arms as he pulled his feet free, his limbs groaning under the strain, not accustomed to such movement after remaining still for so long. His steps were like thunder, quaking the ground with every stride, shuddering beneath his weight as he strode slowly toward the distant sounds.   
  
He could only hope he would arrive in time.

* * *

Ellah turned about slowly, meeting the gaze of death in every pair of eyes she saw. Ghouls, crouched low to the ground with their macabre smiles, inches closer and closer to her, chuckling and chattering their teeth hunrgily. She bent low to the ground, bringing her blades to bear at her sides, trying to stay at the ready, trying to steady her nerves and keep her mind from what could or could not be. She jumped with fright as the abomination behind her, a hulking mass of sewn flesh and rusty metal, slammed the ground and bellowed it's thoughtless laugh, taunting her as if it knew her fear. She calmed herself quickly and maintained her focus, waiting for the final assault.   
  
It came quickly with ghouls rushing her from all angles, growling and snarling, crawling over the stragglers as they reached out for her delicate flesh with their gnarled claws. Ellah twisted, seeing the no opening to escape through, and leapt up into the air. Ghouls ran headlong into one another, their meaty faces slapping together as the elusive elf planted her feet on their back, her blades viciously tearing and slashing as she scrambled to less disgusting ground. One ghoul rose from the pile, reaching out for her, drool and blood dripping from it's jaw, but was met only with her boot as it's head snapped backward. With balance and grace, the night elf skipped from ghoul to ghoul, as if hopping stones in a bubbling stream, using her blades, and sometimes her foot, to keep the miserable creatures at bay.   
  
She realized suddenly that she was heading right for the abomination, who was busily scraping the cleaver and hook together, laughing that deep and eachoed laugh, waiting for her anxiously. At that instant, her blade slashed accross the eyes of a ghoul, and was firghtened to see that there was no reaction at all. It's claw slashed diagonally downward and narrowly missed her skin, falling to it's side, obviously blind. Ellah looked to the fallen ghoul, then to abomintion, and quickly formulater a plan.   
  
By now the ghouls were crawling over one another with ease, giving chase to their meal, now more focused than ever on her. Her feet finally touched the forest floor again as she stepped off the final ghoul, the stupid creature clawing into the one in front of it, thinking it to be her, and began to gorge on it's rotted corpse. She pivoted and slashed behind her, catching a ghoul on the mouth and sending it's jaw flying. She repelled her gag reflex as a green fluid began to pour from it's skull, and spun around to face the abomination.   
  
The creature was waiting for her, it's hook raised high into the air as it looked down on her, eyes wide with crazed hunger. She ducked low as it swung, just low enough to evade, and watched the monsterous hook connect with another ghoul, sending it flying into the trees behind it. She sprang then, putting her feet on the thing's huge arm and plunging her blades into it's bulging stinking flesh, using one blade as brace as she pulled herself up. She pulled her other blade free and leapt up, spun, and slashed the beast accross the face, popping one eyeball and slicing open the other. It wailed and recoiled as she pushed off with her feet, flailing it's huge arms and smashing them into trees, sending logs, dirt and more ghouls flying as it lost it's vision. Ellah landed hard and rolled backwards, now clutching only one of her blades while the other stayed in the thing's arm. She tried to right herself quickly, but was thrown back as a ghoul leapt upon her.   
  
She screamed, trying to push the thing off, trying to bring her blade around to damage it somehow, but could not. Another came from her side, and another by her head. She could feel them tearing her flesh open, their claws digging hungrily at her. The pain shot through her nearly as quickly as her panic.   
  
She was dying. She would be eaten alive.   
  
Suddenly she felt a strong breeze, and the ghouls were upon her no longer. She could not understand, she could not see through the blood in her eyes, but she suddenly felt calm, felt at ease. A shadow stood over her, too tall for her to comprehend then and there, and the earth seemed to quake defiantly, as if it were defending her. She released her blade from her grip and clutched her throat as her blood flowed, coughing and sputtering as she looked up. Her hand, her small shivering hand, rose skyward, reaching toward her savior, toward that which would not allow her to be consumed by evil incarnate.   
  
She felt the touch of leaves and heard a comforting sound, a sound of sincere loss and sorrow, and felt strangely warm as the ground beneath her seemed to embrace her. She closed her eyes, coughed once more, then lay very still.   
  
Grumbleoak lingered for many an hour as he stood over the beautiful young night elf, his branches red with blood and gore. Dozens of ghouls lay lifelessly around him, the abomination, or pieces of it, lay in a pile behind him. His large golden eyes were soft with sadness as his mind tried to comprehend why anything would wish to bring harm to such a creature as the one who lay below him now. Their love of nature and willingness to defend it were evident as flowers were already beginning to bloom around where she had fallen, their petals hanging low as if mourning her death.   
  
How could this be? he wondered sadly. How could this be?   
  
He rose then, standing his full height, his head nearly poking through the canopy, and found himself fuming with anger. Whatever did this, whatever wanted to keep doing this, had to be stopped. His forest was in danger, and an elf's precious life was ended.   
  
This had to end before it began.


End file.
